Sister Maelis Nightbloom
Cleric
Sister Maelis Nightbloom
Species
Human
Appearance
Sister Maelis Nightbloom is a lean human woman with the composed posture of a soldier and the careful hands of a jeweler. Her movements are quiet, measured, and oddly gentle for someone who has spent half her life among corpses. Candlelight catches on the fine silver threads stitched beneath her skin at the wrists, remnants of a failed warding ritual. She smells faintly of myrrh, rain-soaked stone, and burnt rosemary. Her face is narrow and weathered, with a white scar crossing one eyebrow and a smile that appears most often during funerals. The unexpected contradiction is her laughter, sudden and warm, usually arriving at the worst possible moment, as though some hidden part of her refuses to let death have the final word.
“Her voice is low, clear, and intimate, carrying the steady rhythm of a funeral prayer. She rarely raises it, yet people instinctively quiet themselves to hear her.”
Ability Scores
Alignment
Distinguishing Features
A pale scar cuts through her left eyebrow and ends at the temple in three branching lines.
Fine silver warding threads shimmer beneath the skin of both wrists.
Her left hand is always slightly colder than her right.
Her sunburst reliquary contains a single black flower pressed between sheets of gold foil.
She laughs softly at funerals when someone tells a genuinely kind story about the deceased.
Voice
“A low contralto with a soft rasp, like velvet drawn across old stone. Her words carry the scent of incense and the weight of practiced prayer.”
Clothing
A black undertaker's robe reinforced with dark leather at the shoulders and ribs, layered beneath a sleeveless ivory tabard bearing a gold sunrise broken by a vertical crack. Her hood is lined in deep violet velvet, and small brass prayer tags hang from her belt, chiming softly when she walks. Her gloves are mismatched, one white for sacred rites and one charcoal gray for handling cursed remains.
Body Language
Maelis stands with her shoulders square and her chin slightly lowered, as if listening to someone beneath the floor. She touches the silver reliquary at her throat when lying, folds her hands over her censer when frightened, and turns her left wrist inward to hide the warding scars there. When angry, she becomes almost perfectly still.
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